


Rotten Work

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 09:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20240938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: Romeo gets a note from Mercutio asking him to come over, and soon starts to suspect that something is wrong. It is.





	Rotten Work

“Mercutio! Mercutio, I got your note!” The entrance hall was too empty and quiet. _Where are all the servants?_ Romeo looked around somewhat baffled, with a mild suspicion that this was connected to the reason – whatever it was – that Mercutio had felt a need to summon him via note. As it were, that almost never happened, and Mercutio rarely invited him or Benvolio over to his house. Usually because there was no reason for it. They were the sort of lot that preferred to hang around the trees and parks, and if they felt like going inside to escape the weather, the Montague mansion had become their headquarters by some unspoken agreement. 

Romeo clutched Mercutio’s cryptic note, written in almost incomprehensive lettering – Romeo was not certain if that was attributable to the situation or Mercutio’s personality – and made his way through to the sitting room. Not finding anyone there, he decided to forgo formalities, and went straight to Mercutio’s rooms. Deeper into the house, there was more movement. It seemed like the household was so preoccupied with its internal affairs that no one was holding up appearances. Romeo didn’t particularly care and he was well enough known here that his presence did not spook any of the servants he ran across, though they all gave him oddly sad and encouraging looks. 

_They _seemed to know, or think they knew, why he was there. Romeo was still baffled. On not finding Mercutio in his rooms, he began to feel a slow, sinking feeling that either this was some kind of prank or that something was _very wrong. _Not certain what to do, Romeo stopped a maid in the hallway and asked after Mercutio. 

The girl gave him an odd look. “He is with his lady mother, sir.”

Romeo held up the note. “He summoned me. Would you mind seeing me through or letting him know I’ve come. He made it seem urgent.” 

The oddly pinched look on the girl’s face made Romeo think that _something is very wrong _was a more likely explanation at this point than a prank, and it made Romeo’s stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot. Finally, the girl said, “Wait here. I will tell him.”

Romeo retreated back into Mercutio’s sitting room and sat down on the sofa to wait. He remembered, suddenly, that he and Benvolio had not seen Mercutio for the last two days and when they had gone to find him were told he was not at home. They had not put much store in it, joking and betting on which girl or fellow Mercutio had stolen away with. Romeo, especially, vowed to tease Mercutio about his tryst when he resurfaced. It would serve him right for all the times he made fun of Romeo for fancying a pretty girl and dreaming of romance. And if Romeo felt a little jealous at the thought of Mercutio kissing some girl, he didn’t let it shoe. What was the use? Mercutio was like wildfire and would always do as he pleased. 

Now, all those jokes turned into ashes in Romeo’s stomach and burned pits of guilt inside his chest. What if something was seriously wrong and they had spent the last two days laughing at their friend’s expense instead of trying to find him and help him? Romeo rubbed his temples and tried to stay calm._ You’re overreacting again, _he told himself. 

The door opened suddenly with a clatter and Romeo jumped up. Mercutio did not take time with pleasantries. He slammed the door shut again and paced over to the window. “You came.”

“Of course I came. You seemed to have need of me.” 

There was a long pause in which Mercutio stared out the window, his back still to Romeo, uncharacteristically stiff. The foreboding feeling in Romeo’s chest grew. He took several steps toward Mercutio but stopped short, not daring to touch him or even get too close. The tension in his body was palpable and dangerous. Romeo noticed that he was only in a linen shirt without a doublet and his hair was mussed. He had only caught a glimpse of Mercutio’s face, but he looked tired and unusually pale. 

“Did something happen?” Romeo pressed, the silence weighing heavily on him now. “Are you…alright?”

Mercutio laughed and it sounded bitter and near-hysterical to Romeo. “Oh yes, perfectly good, dear Romeo. I’ve been having quite a chat with the Black Fairy, you know, the Princess of Death. Let us be, I tell her, and she only smiles toothily at me from the back corner. _But _at least she smiles, the little harlot.” 

As usually, when distressed, Mercutio retreated to spouting nonsense about fairies and creatures and everything other than what was actually bothering him. Romeo wanted to snap, _Oh, come out with it; if you didn’t want to talk to me, why send me the note? _But he knew this would only irritate Mercutio more and likely seem cold. Until he knew what exactly was wrong, he could not make too many assumptions about what would or wouldn’t set Mercutio off. “Is this all the same reason as to why you have been absent for the last couple of days? Where were you?”

“Trying my best to nail a fairy, of course.” 

Whether he mean _to fuck _or _to kill _Romeo could not tell, as he never could when Mercutio decided to use words as weapons of obstruction. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “You don’t have to tell me,” he acquiesced finally. “If it’s a distraction you want, let us fetch Benvolio and—”

Mercutio deflated sharply, his shoulders dropping and his entire body seeming to suddenly be on the verse of collapse, making Romeo close the distance between them until he was standing directly behind Mercutio. “My mother is dying,” Mercutio said hoarsely, tonelessly, the only hint of emotion a tiny hitch in his voice and his entire posture. 

Romeo froze. He had guessed at a number of things, but not this. “She’s ill? Oh, Mercutio, I’m sorry. But must it be so desperate?” He reached out and put a hand on Mercutio’s shoulder. Mercutio flinched, but then, slowly, relaxed into the touch. 

“It is that bad, yes. She’s been unwell for the past year, so we sort of knew…that this was coming. Eventually. Now they’re saying it’s going to happen.” Mercutio rubbed at his eyes and continued, without waiting for Romeo to say anything. “You know, Valentine is only a year and a half younger than you, but he feels like such a child still. I suppose I’ll be responsible for him after. Romeo, how am I supposed to be responsive for anyone? I hate being responsive for myself.” Another laugh, equally humorless and pained. _  
_  
Taking the chance, Romeo slid his arms around Mercutio from behind and rested his chin on Mercutio’s shoulder. “I’m sure your uncle will help, or other relatives. No one can expect you to suddenly be a parent. It will be alright.” He was not sure what to say. He could feel the shivers that wracked Mercutio’s body and how strained and tense he was, fear battling grief for dominance. Other than his brother, he did not have any close relatives. The Prince always kept a distance from his bastard sister’s family and Count Paris was only a very distant relative. He would be left with a tangled fortune, a kid brother, and probably too many expectations from everyone. Mercutio could hardly manage adolescent responsibilities, not to mention adult ones. The worst part was that Romeo did not know what to do to help except to hold him tighter and add, in the softest of whispers, “You will always have me and Benvolio. Always.” 

At this, Mercutio turned in his arms so quickly and forcefully that Romeo was for a moment afraid that he had said something wrong. “What could you possibly—” he broke off, likely on seeing the sincerity in Romeo’s face. “…do.”

Romeo used one hand to push Mercutio’s messy curls away from his face. “I don’t know but anything. Anything you need.” 

Something about his reassurance broke through and Mercutio’s expression crumbled. He hid his face against Romeo’s shoulder as the first sobs wracked his body and it was all Romeo could do but hold him and let him cry and curse and blame the entire world for all the pain he was in. Romeo did not know how long they stood there but after some time, the storm began to calm, and Mercutio’s sobs quieted into occasional sniffling and his breathing evened out. Finally, Romeo figured it was safe to let go just enough to lead Mercutio over to the sofa so they could both sit down. 

Looking rather embarrassed, Mercutio said, “I’ll kill you if you tell anyone about this.”

Romeo smiled softly at him, still holding on to his waist with one hand, the other running over Mercutio’s arm, shoulders, neck, into his hair. “What? That you have a dirty mouth when you’re upset? I think everyone already knows that.”

Mercutio snorted and a ghost of a smiled appeared in the corners of his mouth. 

“I’m going to stay here tonight,” Romeo said finally, seriously. 

“As much as I’d love to hide here with you, I should be with my mother.”

“That’s alright. I can still help to oversee that the servants are doing what they should or help in any other way you need. I can just stay here to be close by…” 

This time, the smile was a little bigger. “Sweet Romeo, you are much too sincere for the world.” Mercutio leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss against the corner of Romeo’s mouth. Romeo leaned into it, the airy softness of the touch making him wonder if he was imagining it all along. It wasn’t like Mercutio to be chaste about anything and this hesitation surprised and scared Romeo a little, but this was also not the time to think on such things. If his heart had begun to race, he ignored it, even if it took all his willpower to do so. _Later, later, it can wait. He’s not thinking straight just now anyway. _“But taking care of me is rotten work.” 

Romeo rolled his eyes and said, perhaps the expected, “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”


End file.
